I make myself comfortable in my seat, though my anxiety runs high. I'm about to head into a foreign environment I barely have any information on. Sure, Ze described the temple and the priestesses to the best of his abilities, but he's only done so from the lens of a male outsider. The truth of what I'll encounter inside is yet to be revealed.

Each House has its own temple and the priestesses have been tasked with defending the Primordial artifacts. Their creation was a direct opposition to the Sons of Tenebreis—hence why only females can join the temple. But times have changed, and with the rise of demon attacks, Ze fears that the artifacts could fall into the wrong hands. It has already happened once when Elias, the King of the House of Bronte, and his high priestess defected to Tartareia with the artifact in their care. According to Ze, though, if the demons get their hands on the vial, it's the beginning of the end, and he's not one to speak in superlatives. For that alone, I'm willing to push against my discomfort and help him.

The silence of the journey is unbearable. Fidgeting in my seat, I pull on the thin cotton curtain, peering outside. The road is busy as we head into the main city. Merchant carriages are on both sides of the streets, people selling different items along the sidewalk. Most are s’Aperiotes, and I've learned to tell them apart based on their clothes. The materials are coarser, the colors washed out from too much wear. The wealthy individuals are garbed in silks and satins, the colors bright and vivid, immediately pinpointing their social status in a crowd. That in itself is reflected in the way they are treated. Shop keepers grumble when a lower-class citizen shows an interest in their merchandise, but when an upper-class person looks at the same item, they go above and beyond, their attitude sickeningly servile.

I suppose our appearance was not the only thing that was modeled after gods—our morals were too. Does every realm have a classist worldview? Is it a universal trait? Somehow, I refuse to believe it. Perhaps this is my past speaking, but I've seen the worst of mankind, yet at the same time I've also seen the best. So I choose to believe people can be better.

Nikki was one of the richest men alive. Yet he never once looked down on me, not for my lack of wealth, nor for my ignorance. Where I didn't know, he taught me. He never once made me feel bad for not knowing something. He's a prime example of someone born at the top, who lived his entire life at the top, yet never let that affect him and the way he interacted with those who had less than him.

My lips tug up as I tightly wrap my arms around myself, imagining it's his embrace.